


Turnout

by rillrill



Category: Veep
Genre: Hate Sex, M/M, Post-Season/Series 04 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 14:17:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4140897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rillrill/pseuds/rillrill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-"Election Night."</p><p>
  <i>Dan can hear Selina’s voice grow louder in the hallway, he could probably shout to her and be heard if he tried, but as he opens his mouth, Jonah claps a hand over it.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turnout

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this in a hurry for the squad last night but decided it deserved a place on the AO3 as well. Not Insurance-'verse, just general fuckboy nonsense.

Dan doesn’t know why, but he leaves the studio and drives to the hotel where the campaign has set up camp. He’s following the pull to Amy, to Selina, to the team he spent three and a half years of his life with, the job that destroyed him mentally and chewed him up and spat him out. He doesn’t know why he wants to go back, but he’s angry – angry at Selina basically telling him to fuck himself on that stage ( _Lesley Carr_ , honestly, fuck her), angry at Amy for deserting him when they’d promised they were a team. He seethes the entire drive as his phone pings with emails and messages, the battery inching closer and closer to zero. He needs to be there. He needs to finish what he started almost four years ago, needs to go down with this ship even if he knows it’s a monumentally stupid move.  
  
He calls Amy as soon as he gets there, but her phone keeps going to voicemail, and after six frantic tries, he hangs up and fires off texts to anyone who might get him in the room: Mike, Kent, Sue, Bill. He’s halfway across the lobby when he hears his name.  
  
He turns. He groans.  
  
“What the fuck do you want?” he spits. Jonah’s striding across the lobby, his dumbass assistant nowhere in sight, wearing a smug look of superiority and holding his phone in one hand.  
  
Jonah rolls his eyes. “Come with me.”  
  
“Fuck no. I need to see Amy,” Dan says. “She’s expecting me –”  
  
“No, she’s not,” Jonah says. “But come on. I can take you up.”  
  
It’s a trick. It has to be a trick, he thinks, nothing is ever this easy. And Dan’s gut feeling is proven right when Jonah leads him into an empty hotel room, checking his phone nervously all the while, and then shuts the door and stands awkwardly in front of it.  
  
Dan squares his jaw, readying himself for the fight. “Get the fuck out of the way,” he says coolly. “You’re not being fucking subtle.”  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jonah says, crossing his arms and widening his stance, and Dan would laugh if he weren’t so fucking angry about how he’s being treated.  
  
“Yeah you do,” he says, lowering his voice as he moves closer. “Senior staff assigned you to distract me or keep me out of the way or whatever the fuck this is. They don’t want me in the room but I’m getting in there anyway—”  
  
“Watch it, Danny, Secret Service wouldn’t want to hear that,” Jonah cuts him off, and Dan almost reaches out to grab him by the tie or the collar and just fuck him up, but just as he’s about to, there’s a familiar voice in the corridor outside, and they both snap to attention.  
  
“I cannot believe America fucked me over like this,” Selina’s saying, her words muffled only slightly by the wall between them, and Dan’s eyes widen as he realizes how close she is. All he has to do is get past Jonah, open the door – but Jonah’s shifting his weight, digging his heels into the carpet, making himself look broader-shouldered than usual, the fucking Frankenstein’s monster-looking asshole.  
  
Dan can hear Selina’s voice grow louder in the hallway, he could probably shout to her and be heard if he tried, but as he opens his mouth, Jonah claps a hand over it.  
  
“Nope,” Jonah says, and then he’s flipping their positions and pushing Dan back against the door, left hand still clasped over his mouth and the fingers of his right tangled in his tie and wrinkling his shirt collar. Dan recoils, tries to pull away, but Jonah’s fucking strong, stronger than he expected considering the times they’ve gotten physical before – the guy’s a fucking Clydesdale, he guesses it shouldn’t surprise him, but he’s already so off his game, so out of sorts, that when his shoulders hit the door, he almost goes limp from the shock.  
  
“Fuck you,” he mumbles against Jonah’s hand. It’s muffled and inarticulate but Jonah’s eyes narrow and he seems to get the gist, because he tightens his fist in Dan’s tie and pushes harder against him, closing nearly all of what’s left of the gap between their bodies.  
  
“No, fuck you, you fucking pathetic slimeball,” Jonah says, and he looks like he’s working up to a solid monologue before Dan opens his mouth again and licks Jonah’s palm (and God knows where it’s been), out of the sheer desire to get it the fuck off his face. But Jonah doesn’t recoil, just presses down harder, and this is fucking infuriating, maddening beyond words, and Dan isn’t thinking when he nips at Jonah’s hand with his teeth, light enough just to graze but hard enough to make the point, and suddenly – he doesn’t know how it happens, but there are fingers _in his mouth_ for half a second before Jonah leans down and replaces his hand with his lips.  
  
For half a second he’s dumbstruck. Jonah doesn’t kiss like he’s trying to seduce him, he kisses the way he fights – hard and sloppy without much of a clear objective, and it’s clear to Dan that this isn’t an act of passion so much as desperation, but it’s fucking fantastic despite – or perhaps because – of that. But then it hits him, the _want_ , and Jonah’s teeth are dragging on his lip and there’s a tongue in his mouth and Jonah’s forearm is still pressed against his chest, keeping him firm against the wall, and it’s going straight to his dick.  
  
“You better keep your fucking mouth shut,” Jonah hisses as he pulls away, replacing his lips with his hand again, and Dan rolls his eyes as Jonah lets go of his tie and his mouth and moves his hands downward. They’re kissing again like a fucking trainwreck, and Dan’s suddenly burning up with how much he fucking loathes himself for wanting this. He wants those big stupid hands on his hips and between his thighs and spanning his lower back and against his wrists, giving him something solid, a force to struggle against, some kind of almost-fair fight.  
  
He wants out of this $4500 suit he never should have bought in the first place, with the money he shouldn’t have made at the job he shouldn’t have had to take. He would give almost anything to have been on that stage, and for that matter, if he’d been there, none of this would have happened – the tie, the vote going to the House, none of it. He should be okay with seeing the Meyer administration go down in incompetent flames, but he’s also burning up with the knowledge that he could have fixed it had he not been scapegoated, and fuck, he’s so turned on, it’s disgusting.  
  
Jonah’s not slowing down as he knocks Dan’s legs apart with his knee and shifts against him. He’s rubbing at Dan’s hips and pressing hard kisses against his throat, scraping teeth across his five a.m. stubble and his Adam’s apple, and as he shifts a hand downward, Dan can feel his lips quirk up into a smile against his neck. “Honestly, Dan, fuck you,” Jonah mutters against his ear and the sensation of his breath makes Dan shiver as Jonah starts stroking his crotch through his pants.  
  
“No, fuck _you_ ,” Dan gasps. He’s a mess, rubbing against Jonah’s thigh like some kind of grateful prom night sucker. He can feel Jonah’s erection against his hip and rocks against it, feeling Jonah pant against his neck as he does.  
  
He’d be a liar if he never thought it would come to this, but he never assumed this would be the form it’d take; he didn’t expect them both to be so off-kilter, Jonah manhandling him like a whore and smiling like a smug fucking birthday clown from his childhood nightmares. He’s so tall and broad and normally Dan wants to destroy him but he tells himself he’s too tired to fight back, rationalizes the rush he feels from losing control as exhaustion. His heart is beating like a hammer in his chest. He hates himself for this. Jonah’s hands are so fucking big.  
  
“I always knew you were fucking obsessed with me,” Jonah says, biting down on Dan’s earlobe for emphasis, like a punctuation mark after the fact.  
  
Dan laughs despite his position, but it shifts to a groan as Jonah fumbles with his belt buckle and gets it fully undone. “ _You_ jumped _me_ , Jonad. Or is your memory span too fucking shot from whatever irradiated swamp you came out of—”  
  
“Wrong answer,” Jonah says in a low tone as he pops the button on Dan’s pants, sucking hard on his neck. Dan shudders and braces himself against the door as Jonah tugs down his zipper one-handed. “You got anything to say?”  
  
“I fucking hate you,” says Dan, and it echoes in the empty hotel room. He can’t hear Selina outside anymore. There’s really no reason for them to keep going, and yet. He can feel himself getting close, _much too close_ , just from the friction and the position and the compounding tension of the entire fucking night, and this is not how he wanted this to happen, he’d honestly rather be double-teamed by Ben and Bill in the briefing room before he lets Jonah rub him off in a Baltimore Marriott, but he’s almost _there_ , and—  
  
“No, I fucking hate _you_ —” Jonah breaks off mid-sentence and rubs harder against Dan’s crotch, knocking his legs open wider with one knee, and the pressure is going to – fuck, the pressure, he hates this, it’s not supposed to happen like this—  
  
“Fuck,” he gasps, grinding down against Jonah’s wide, sturdy palm. “Oh God. Oh no, _no_ —”  
  
Jonah grins and it’s smug and terrible and Dan can feel himself flushing bright red. “Yeah, come on, fucking do it,” Jonah murmurs against his ear, and it’s just enough to send him over the edge, and Dan comes, suddenly, with his head buried in Jonah’s red sweater vest and his hand on Jonah’s wrist, holding him in place, just daring him to move away. Jonah’s barely touching his cock in the first place, and Dan’s not even—he’s still wearing his expensive fucking suit pants, and it’s humiliating, and it’s incredible, and—  
  
“Jesus Christ,” Jonah says, in a wrecked, amazed tone. “Fuck. Dan.”  
  
Dan’s face is hot and he can feel sweat beading on his forehead where he’s leaning it against Jonah’s solid chest. His eyes feel wet and he’s not sure if he’s allergic to bad decisions or just overwhelmed. He thinks he can feel Jonah’s heartbeat. It might be his own pulse, pounding in his ears. He’s sticky and his lip hurts from where he’s chewed half the dry, chapped skin off.  
  
“Fuck,” Dan echoes. Then he clears his throat as he rights himself. “I—”  
  
“Yeah.” Jonah looks equally flustered, at least, flushed and breathing hard and obviously hard. He swipes at his hair with one hand, looking uncertain as Dan eyes him. “I think you should go—”  
  
He doesn’t finish his sentence before there’s a knock at the door, and Dan flinches, startled, knocking his head against the peephole. “Mother _fucker_ ,” he grits under his breath.  
  
“Mr. Ryan? Can I get you anything?” and of course it’s Richard, because it would be, and Dan stares daggers into Jonah as he runs his hand defensively through his bangs again, daring him to answer.  
  
“Uh, no,” Jonah calls through the door. “No, um, we’re – I’m good, thanks.”  
  
“Right. Anything for Mr. Egan?”  
  
Dan’s eyes go wide as he takes a steadying breath, shaking his head. “Dan’s, um, he’s just fine, he’s great,” Jonah says, and Dan could kill him, he _wants_ to kill him, but he can’t exactly walk outside in this state while Richard’s still loitering out there, so instead he deftly undoes Jonah’s belt and yanks at the zipper of his khakis and sinks to his knees.

 

* * *

  
The elevator takes too long to arrive. Jonah pushes him into the car with one hand at his back and Dan grits his teeth again and wants to push back but doesn’t. He feels dazed and embarrassed and just lets it happen and as Jonah hits the lobby button, he wants to say something, but he doesn’t.  
  
“Don’t be a stranger,” Jonah says in _that fucking tone_ , like he’s not aware that it’s a stupid fucking line in the first place, and Dan rests his head against the back wall of the elevator as it closes on a ding and wonders when his life became a parody of a fucking tragedy.


End file.
